


the night is young, come undone (i know girls wanna have fun)

by kattyshack



Series: knocking me out with those american thighs [3]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Possessive Behavior, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Teasing, Texting, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 07:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23847325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattyshack/pseuds/kattyshack
Summary: Beth’s busy at work, but — God willing — Murphy’s got a trick or two up his sleeve to make those hours fly by a little more quickly.(work and chapter titles from “hands on you,” by dales)
Relationships: Beth Greene/Murphy MacManus
Series: knocking me out with those american thighs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647058
Comments: 12
Kudos: 37





	1. got nowhere else to be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gutsforgarters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsforgarters/gifts).



Strictly speaking, yeah, this is Murphy’s own fault, he’s only got himself to blame, he had it coming, et cetera, et cetera.

Not like he’s going to _complain_ about it, but he should’ve known better than to send dirty messages to Beth while she’s on the clock, because he knows _Beth_ better, period. Cheeky little brat’s always giving him a run for his money. If he’s gonna go trying to distract her while she’s got tables to wait on, it stands to reason that she’s not gonna give a shit about his personal fucking _plight_ or whatnot when she makes him hard for her in a fucking public place.

Anyway, the two’ve them done plenty of damage to each other at McGinty’s as it is. Christ’s sake, first time he got his hands on her, he groped her tits in the kitchen and ten minutes later ate her cunt in the bathroom. Good a place to start as any, far as Murphy’s concerned, and they hadn’t stopped there. Fuck him, but just look at the girl — it’s no wonder he doesn’t so much as bother to try to keep his hands to himself.

Since then, he’s coaxed her into trading fevered kisses in the back corridor a time or two or six or — alright, so eight (but, hey, who’s counting?), though usually nothing more because she always says he can bloody well _wait_ ‘til she’s off duty.

He usually can’t, is the thing. Hence all the kissing.

Besides, sometimes the fellas at the pub get a little too friendly with her for Murphy’s liking, so excuse the fuck outta him if he’s got to steal her away for a few minutes to suck another bruise on her neck. Behind her ear tends to work well enough, she’s usually got her hair up, but he’ll get one lower on her, too, sucking at the crook that bends into her shoulder ‘til it’s a healthy shade of purple and she’s squirming up against him like she wants to get off.

She usually doesn’t let him go that far — not at the pub, anyway, though he gets plenty of chances once he’s got her home — but that’s fine. He can live with it. The point is that he gets a couple hickeys on her, show the rest of ‘em who the fuck’s boss. Show Beth, too, in case she ever feels like forgetting.

She never does, though. Nah, she can huff at him all she wants, but he’s pretty sure she sort of likes it when he manhandles her like that. Knows it, actually, because one time he undid her snap and shoved his hand down her pants while he was lapping at her neck, and when he cupped her pussy he found her wet enough to take his cock then and there in the hallway next to the loo.

She wouldn’t let him that time — “Some of us gotta _work_ for a livin’, Murphy, jeez” — but he was still well chuffed about it. Plus she let him get her off with his fingers before she went back to work — let him push two fingers into that tight heat, pump and curl and make her muscles go all tight, let him thumb at her clit and pant all sorts of dirty shit in her ear to make her moan his name ‘til those muscles loosened right back up and she came all over his hand — so who the fuck’s he to bitch and moan here?

So, yeah, he’s copped a few feels on this girl while she’s on the clock. And she’s _respectable_ , see, all proper and shit, so it pisses her off enough to give him hell about it later. During, too, which goes and gets him even hotter for her. Makes him a little more grabby and sloppy, but he prefers to call it _enthusiastic_. She knows that, and she likes it just as much as he does.

The point is — the point he should have remembered before he kicked this shit into gear again, when she’s got a whole five hours left on her shift — is that ‘course she’s not gonna care if his cock goes stiff under the bartop because of her, considering all else they’ve done when she’s meant to be working, not to mention the fact he’s the one who started it. He _deserves_ it, that’s what she’ll say.

He’ll have his head between her legs when she says it, though, hands gripped around her thighs and tongue up her cunt, so like hell does he give it a second thought before he fishes his phone out of his pocket and taps out a message to her.

 **MURPHY** : hey what are u wearing

Beth’s gonna kick his arse for that one, but he can’t say he minds much.

It’s a good thing Amy’s off tonight, because that means she’s keeping Connor busy at their flat and Murphy hasn’t got to listen to his shit. His brother’d be like to snatch his phone out of his hand, too, and while Murphy couldn’t give a fuck about who knows what he and Beth get up to, she prefers to keep things more private. Private as they’re able, anyway. And he can respect that, for her sake.

Doesn’t much respect her job responsibilities, sure, and ‘course he loves the pub and Doc, but Murphy’d be willing to let their waitstaff suffer if it means he gets Beth all to himself. She could quit this gig and he’d take care of her. Part of him hopes this little shenanigan convinces her to do just that; she absolutely _won’t_ , but a man can dream, can’t he?

He doesn’t see her check her phone, but she must’ve, probably when she was back in the kitchen, because the next time Beth swings around to his stool she’s mouthing off at him.

Christ, he loves that shit.

 _“What are you wearing,”_ she repeats, voice dropping low and lilted with a terrible impression of his accent, just so he knows she’s mocking him. She’s done it enough for him to recognize it; usually gets her arse smacked for it, but that’s what the bloody little tease _wants_. “What’s it look like I’m wearing, jeez.”

“And you wear it so well, love,” Murphy tells her, grinning as she side-eyes him and wipes down the counter. “Think I take it off of you even better, though.”

Her cheeks go pink, but she’s not going to let him win this round, he can tell. No, she’s got to go and be _mean_ about it — “You don’t behave yourself, the only thing you’re gonna be _taking_ is me home, where I’m gonna give you a kiss goodnight outside the door and send you on your way.”

“Ah, don’t do that to me, now, sweetheart.” Murphy snags two fingers in one of her belt loops, tugs her around to face him before she can head off back to work. Tugs her in _close_. “Don’t you want to be a good girl for Daddy?”

“ _Don’t_ start.” Beth pokes a warning fingertip into his chest, right near his heart, so she’s got to know how up-the-wall fucking wild his pulse has gone just because he can smell the deep-fry on her. She always wants a shower after work, but he’s more than pleased to lick the smell right off of her. “I’ve still got almost a whole shift left to work. I told you you shouldn’t’ve come by this early.”

“What the fuck else was I meant to do?” Murphy wants to know, no heat to the words because he’s not angry, but it’s a legitimate enough question, if you ask him. The pad of his thumb scrapes the skin just above her waistband and he feels her shudder. “Couldn’t very well sit around at home, could I, with Connor and Amy going at it. They’re louder than we are. No sense of decency, either of them.”

He leans in to pluck a kiss off her lips, grins when she lets him. “Only other thing to do was wait around at yours. Your bed’s not nearly as fun when you’re not in it with me, y’know that?”

“Could’ve watched TV or somethin’,” Beth points out. Grumbles a bit as she does it, so he kisses her again. This time, he pushes his tongue between her lips — just for a second, but harsh, insistent, long enough for him to swallow down her sweet sharp sigh.

“Couch isn’t as fun without you, either,” he murmurs. He slips his fingers free from her belt loop, palms her hip. “Besides, can’t keep an eye on you if I’m watching fuckin’ _Sopranos_ reruns, can I?”

Beth rolls her eyes. “‘Course you watch the _Sopranos_.”

“Cheek, love,” he warns lightly, as he sneaks another kiss to the bolt of her jaw.

He’s getting a might too bold with her right here at the bar, but that’s fine by him. Few too many guys in here tonight who might not know she’s taken, even with that ring he put on her finger. They certainly don’t know he’s got one to match it. Bloody college boy Americans don’t know what the fuck a claddagh means, or what it is at all; don’t usually know what’s good for ‘em, either, the way a couple of them’ve been eyeballing Beth. So he’s _got_ to feel her up a bit in plain sight, alright, for the sake of general public safety.

See, Beth always says he overreacts, but he can be reasonable.

She lets him get as far as twisting his fingers through her ponytail and sucking an earlobe between his teeth, but then she’s gently disentangling his hold on her, taking a step back in spite of his whine. And, yeah, fine, so he _does_ whine, fucking sue him.

“I have to _work_ ,” she says firmly, but smiles gently as she scrubs her fingertips through the scruff on his cheek, and wider still when he tilts his head to plant a kiss on her hand — one on her palm, and another on the cool rose-gold band of her ring. “You gonna behave yourself?”

He leans back to give her some space, props an elbow on the bar, sighs. “If you’re gonna make me.”

Beth’s smile shifts into a smirk, and her hand slips to chuck him beneath the chin. “You be good for me now, an’ I’ll be good for you later. How’s that, Daddy?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake —” Murphy growls when she pecks him quick on the lips, then darts away before he can get his hands on her and drag her out of there, fuck another five hours. “You don’t play fair, love!” he calls after her, but she only tosses him another grin over her shoulder before she heads off to check on her tables, pale blonde ponytail bobbing happily along, _mocking_ him.

Jesus. Murphy crosses himself, then taps a cigarette out of his pack and sticks it between his teeth like her earlobe had been. Girl’s fit to fucking kill him, isn’t she?

He never did say he was going to behave, though, and he’s got no intentions of following through on a promise he didn’t even make. If that means Beth’s not going to be good for him later, well, he’s learned by now all that means is she wants her arse slapped and then he gets to be on top when he fucks her.

Not exactly one for negative reinforcement, Beth, so he really can’t feel too bad about keeping up his bullshit.

He sits on it a bit first, lets her get on with her work while he nurses a beer, a basket of chips, a couple of cigarettes. He keeps an eye on her but his hands to himself, giving her nothing more but a wink and a quirk of his lips when she passes by. And, yeah, so obviously he checks out her bum, too, when she walks on by, but _that_ doesn’t distract her from her job, so all’s fair.

Maybe a little less than fair when he pulls out his phone again, but it’s like he said — he’s got no plans to behave.

 **MURPHY** : what *else* are u wearing

 **MURPHY** : go on love give daddy a look

He doesn’t expect her to respond. He figures she’ll whack him upside the head with a dish towel or “accidentally” top him off with some non-alcoholic swill or burn his next plate of chips and still make him eat them. And he _would_ , happily, because he knows he’s being a prick and he knows she’ll make him pay for it. But, again, _paying for it_ just means he’ll have to eat her pussy for an hour before she lets him do anything else with her, and he wanted to do that shit, anyway, so it’s no skin off his nose.

He doesn’t expect her to respond, but then —

 **BETH** : [ATTACHMENT: 1 IMAGE]

Oh, _Christ_.

Murphy fumbles his phone — doesn’t drop it, but it’s a near fucking thing — and looks around. ‘Course Beth’s nowhere to be seen. Judging by that picture, of the sliver of brick wall over her almost-bare shoulder, she’s in the kitchen, probably waiting for him to pull his pathetic arse together and type out a response. It’s not like he’s got anything else to do but salivate over his phone screen.

And that’s just about what he does, hands cupped around it in case anybody gets any ideas about peeking over his shoulder. Most people know better than to sneak up on a MacManus unawares, but just in case, Murphy keeps a good lookout on things.

Much as he can, anyway, as his attention’s rather preoccupied with the photo Beth’s sent him. Nothing too racy, but the notification alone was enough to get his blood pounding in his ears, pulse hiccuping in his wrists and his cock. It’s only a picture of her bra strap, more or less, for fuck’s sake, but it’s got him going like he’s got his mouth on her tits.

All he sees right now is that bra strap — a cut of black cotton up her shoulder, the inch of cup that’s visible edged with lace, her green McGinty’s shirt bunched up in her fist as she holds it away to give him that look he asked for. The light glints in the gold chain around her neck, and brings her blonde hair out brighter. That’s all he sees, but he’s got a good memory, so it’s not hard to remember the rest of it.

Because Murphy knows exactly how it feels to get his mouth on her heartbeat. Knows just what those tits look like scratched with his beard burn, knows how to make her nipples come up hard beneath the press of his tongue and the flick of his thumbs. Knows what she looks like when she’s riding him, and he can lean in and lap up that valley between her breasts while he screws his hips tight and fucks up into her and —

His phone buzzes. Another one from Beth, because, ‘course, who the fuck else is gonna text him? Connor’s likely a bit busy at the moment, and Murphy wouldn’t reply to him, anyway, as _he’s_ getting a bit busy as well.

 **BETH** : Happy?

 **MURPHY** : not nearly, sweetheart

 **BETH** : You gotta be kiddin me.

 **MURPHY** : do i look like someone who’s just here for a laugh?

 **BETH** : Well… sorta?

 **MURPHY** : shut up and take your top off for me

 **BETH** : I’m blocking your number.

She doesn’t, of course, so Murphy just chuckles at the message and continues to ping her with more. When he’s not looking at the picture she sent him, that is, and wondering if she’d be mad if he tore that strap in two with his teeth later.

 **MURPHY** : can i make that my lock screen?

 **BETH** : What? A selfie of my bra? No, you /can’t/ make that your lock screen, Lord, Murphy.

 **MURPHY** : send me something i /can/ use, then

The next image Beth texts him isn’t even close to half as good as the first, but he can tell she’s taking the mickey here when he clicks open a picture of the deep fryer.

 **MURPHY** : that’s real clever, love. that what you’re up to back there? besides teasing me straight into blue balls, ffs

 **BETH** : Yeah, I’m gonna ignore that second thing you said, but you know that real loud table in the back? They ordered sixteen baskets of fries.

 **MURPHY** : christ. hope they leave you a decent tip

 **BETH** : A couple of them offered, but it’s funny, y’know, I don’t think they were talkin about money.

Murphy’s jaw clicks. He cranes a look over his shoulder at the table in question and, sure enough, it’s crowded with a bunch of stupid motherfuckers who probably paid their way into school by virtue of old money and surnames like _Windsor_ and _Abbott_ and _Breckinridge the Third_ or whatever the fuck. There’s ten of them, at least, but half of them are wearing polo shirts, for Christ’s sake, he could take them on his own, easy.

 **MURPHY** : which ones?

 **BETH** : Don’t go bustin anybody’s teeth in again, alright, I was only joking.

 **MURPHY** : so none of them offered you a ““big tip,”” did they?

 **BETH** : Oh, no, they did. But a couple of their friends pointed out this guy at the bar who seems to have dibs on me, and “he doesn’t look like the kind of ex-con you wanna piss off, Brett.”

 **MURPHY** : lmao *brett*

 **MURPHY** : fuckin right i’ve got dibs

 **BETH** : Stop, I’m swooning.

 **MURPHY** : reckon i detect a bit of sarcasm there

 **BETH** : You’d reckon right.  
Neanderthal.

 **MURPHY** : ::panting::

 **BETH** : Stop that.  
D’you think it would do me any favors if they knew you’d never technically been arrested?

 **MURPHY** : hard to tell. i say let em find out the hard way the boston cops owe me and connor more than their trust funds can bail them out

 **BETH** : Connor’s not even here.

 **MURPHY** : yeah, well, the point stands

 **BETH** : Don’t try to take on a whole table of frat boys on your own, okay? Promise, please.

 **MURPHY** : what, you think i couldn’t?

 **BETH** : Why don’t you play it safe for me tonight? There’s always a chance you’d get a concussion, and then who’s gonna take care of me, huh? ;)

 **MURPHY** : always thinking about what i can do to get you off, aren’t you?

 **BETH** : Oh, sorry, is that not what you’ve been thinkin about?

Sometimes it’s hard to tell if Beth’s teasing him or if she’s genuinely worried she’s overstepped, but the girl tends to lean towards the latter and that’s quite literally _never_ been the case, so Murphy makes the utmost effort to knock that shit right out of her head soon as he can.

 **MURPHY** : that pussy’s always what i’m thinking about

 **BETH** : You need a hobby.

 **MURPHY** : like the one i’ve got just fine, thanks, love

 **BETH** : I’m not a HOBBY.

 **MURPHY** : no, you’re my other half. making sure i keep you pleased is a hobby, though. d’you want to see my internet search history?

 **BETH** : Ew, no.

 **MURPHY** : that thing i did with my tongue last week was new. i read about it in a cosmo article

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : Oh.

Murphy smirks. Twiddles his ring around his finger and texts her back.

 **MURPHY** : NOW who’s happy, hm?

 **BETH** : Oh, shut up. :*  
I gotta get back to my tables.

 **MURPHY** : sixteen baskets of chips done already?

 **BETH** : Four. They asked for me to bring them out — and I quote — “in increments, babe.”

 **MURPHY** : they look like they’ve got really good health insurance y’know i’m sure one night in a hospital bed wouldn’t kill any of them

 **BETH** : No, Murphy.

 **MURPHY** : why do you tell me this shit if you’re not gonna let me give anyone a minor head injury, fuck

 **BETH** : /Minor/? Is that what it was the last time?

 **MURPHY** : i’m not a fuckin doctor, am i? anyone who grabs your arse deserves to get fucked up, alright

 **BETH** : Except you, is that it?

 **MURPHY** : obviously, yeah

 **MURPHY** : i also spend half my time with my face in your cunt bc i fucking wanna suck you off, meanwhile i don’t think fuckin *brett’s* ever actually looked at a pussy before

 **BETH** : Hey, RELAX. I’m not goin home with Brett.

 **MURPHY** : no the fuck you aren’t

 **BETH** : I’m goin home with you, same as always.

 **MURPHY** : that’s goddamn right

 **BETH** : But you still got a weird preoccupation with my butt.

 **MURPHY** : christ, take a few minutes out of your day to have a look at it every once in awhile and you’ll see why

 **MURPHY** : i’m obsessed with every fuckin inch of you, girl

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **BETH** : Stop doin this to me while I’m tryna WORK!

 **MURPHY** : ;*

Alright, he leaves her be after that. Even slips his phone into his pocket and lights up another Carroll’s to keep his hands busy instead. Shoots her a wink when she comes out of the kitchens, baskets balanced on her arms — and, fuck, but does he love those arms, slight muscles flexed like they do when she’s got them around his shoulders while he’s kissing her — and grins when she sticks her tongue out at him. She’s smiling, too, he can tell even when she’s trying to bite it back because she doesn’t think he needs to be so fucking _smug_ all the time.

Murphy’d argue that, though, considering he’s the one that’s got dibs on her. Yeah, he thinks as he watches her breeze on by — she tucks her tongue back in her mouth as she goes, puckers her lips and blows him a kiss, rolls her eyes, too — he’s got well and truly _plenty_ to be smug about.

And, y’know… He takes a hit off his cigarette, fingers it as his gaze follows Beth to the other end of the pub. He can leave her be for right now, but they’ve got a fair few hours left before he gets her alone, don’t they? Surely he won’t be able to back down from a little more tease before he takes her home.

No, he decides when she meets his eye again — because she’s got that smile going for him, and like hell can he ever resist that — no, he’s pretty sure this little game of theirs has only just got started.


	2. it’s only you and me

**MURPHY** : send nudes

 **BETH** : Are you insane?

 **MURPHY** : depends. are you topless?

 **BETH** : I’m watchin the fryer, jeez, that’s DANGEROUS.

 **MURPHY** : come on, love, live a little

 **BETH** : Okay, so you /are/ insane.

That’s fair, actually. Murphy doesn’t _really_ want Beth to get half-naked for him while she’s presiding over a vat of popping, piping hot oil. He’d much prefer it if she got entirely naked for him in the comfort of her bedroom, but there’s still about three and a half hours left on her shift and he’s getting antsy. Maybe that’s his fault for starting up this little game — alright, so it absolutely is — but the truth is he’d be antsy waiting for her any which way.

It’s not just because he wants to get in her pants, either. He does want that, obviously — wants to undo the snap on her jeans, the clasp of her bra, wants to siphon all that tension out of her muscles with his hands and his mouth — but it’s more than that, too. It’s that he never feels quite right without her around.

Or, well. He’s not keen on suffocating her or anything, he doesn’t need to be glued to her side every second, it’s just… See, it’s different when she’s in class. She goes to a nice enough school, and she’s usually got Amy on her heels around campus. Safety in numbers and all, and Murphy’s seen what that girl can do with a frying pan; Connor’s got the scar to prove it.

But McGinty’s isn’t exactly located in the most pleasant part of Boston. It’s a dangerous city as it is, maybe less so now than it used to be thanks to him and Connor, because generally speaking nobody wants to fuck with a couple of hot-tempered vigilantes who claim to be on a mission from God. _Are_ on a mission from God, but it doesn’t really make a difference whether or not these big-time criminals believe that; the point is that the vigilantes in question believe it. If nothing else, it makes the naysayers think the MacManus brothers are fucking insane, and that fear does the job just as well as the wrath of God.

But all the same Murphy worries when Beth pulls the night shift. It’s a large part of why he hangs ‘round the whole time. Getting her alone for the occasional few minutes is quite the incentive, too, but mostly Murphy just wants to make sure she hasn’t got to stab anyone else with that buck knife of hers. They’d deserve it, sure enough, but he doesn’t like to think on what could happen if she doesn’t stick them quick, before they can do whatever it is they’re fixing to.

But — no. No, he’s not gonna think about that shit right now. He’s got his sights set on her whenever he can, and when he can’t it’s only because she’s in the kitchen, and the back door to the alley is heavy-duty and sealed up tight. She’s just fine; that’s all that matters.

That, and driving her up the fucking wall while she’s manning the chips.

 **MURPHY** : hand to god if you let me see your tits i won’t make em my lock screen

 **BETH** : Please don’t bring the Lord into this.

 **MURPHY** : fuckin protestants

 **BETH** : Is this the part where you try to get me to read Song of Songs again?

 **MURPHY** : maybe another time. right now i’m trying to get you to do somethin else for me

 **BETH** : Yeah, and you ain’t gettin it.

 **MURPHY** : just a little bit, go on, then

 **BETH** : I already gave you a little bit.

 **MURPHY** : _typing…_

 **MURPHY** : little bit more, then

 **BETH** : You really oughta learn some patience.

 **MURPHY** : what’s the point? i wanna fuck you

 **BETH** : _typing…_

 **MURPHY** : honesty’s more valuable than your precious fucking patience there, love

 **BETH** : I GUESS SO  
But agreeing with you feels wrong.

 **MURPHY** : you just like to push my buttons

 **MURPHY** : fuckin tease

 **BETH** : Hmmm y’know, you’re makin it real hard to decide whether I prefer “tease” or “Prostestant” as a term of endearment.

 **MURPHY** : well if it helps any you’re making *me* hard either way

 **BETH** : Shut up.

 **MURPHY** : i mean it, it’s fuckin ridiculous

 **BETH** : Well, excuuuuuuse me.

 **MURPHY** : nah don’t think i will

 **BETH** : ;)

Oh, she really is being a tease, isn’t she? Murphy digs his teeth into his bottom lip to trap the pitiful groan bubbling deep in his gut, taps his ring finger restlessly against the bartop. He’s going to wind up with a nick in his claddagh ring at this rate, but he couldn’t sit still right now if someone held a gun to his head — and he knows too well what _that_ shit’s like, but Beth’s got him keyed the fuck up at the moment.

No fucking way is he lasting another three-odd hours before he gets his hands on her and his cock in her. That would take a right miracle, it would, and Murphy reckons making sure he doesn’t go off early isn’t exactly in God’s wheelhouse tonight. He still maintains it was some sort of divine intervention that got Beth walking into his life in the first place, but that shit’s _romantic_ , innit? Murphy’s desperate sexual desire for the girl, on the other hand… Well, that’s his own damn problem.

He hadn’t gone to confession this past Sunday. Spent the morning sleeping off a hangover and the afternoon with his head buried between Beth’s thighs, licking leisurely at her cunt like he had no place else to be, slurping at her come like sacramental wine’s got nothing on her. And that’s the God’s honest truth, but Murphy figures the current, throbbing ache in his pants is some sort of reprimand for skipping out on mass, at the least.

Well. He smirks around his next pull of nicotine, flicks his tongue around the filter and recalls the sharp tug of Beth’s fingers in his hair when he lapped at her clit much the same way, and he thinks it was well fucking worth the penance.

He’d still much rather do something about it, though. After all, he’s never been one to sit idly by when there’s something he wants, or something he feels the pressing need to do — and he wants Beth, _needs_ her, it’s a fucking punch to the gut every time but he likes that shit, and he can’t just switch it off because she’s working and he’s supposed to be acting rationally.

Thing is, he’s just not all that rational to start with. Whatever he might claim otherwise from time to time, he knows it’s bullshit — like he knows that knocking out the teeth of any motherfucker who so much as looks at Beth sideways is _ir_ rational, completely; he just doesn’t care. Because she’s _his_ — his to please, to keep safe, to take care of every which way he knows how.

And one of those ways just happens to be getting her toes curling in those fucking John Wayne boots of hers. And he wants to do it _now_.

He snags her elbow on her next pass by, spins in his stool and tugs her in close like he did earlier. Doesn’t kiss her, much as he’d like, but skims the tip of his nose up the bridge of hers and watches her eyelashes flutter.

“C’mon, then,” he murmurs in that way he knows gets to her, down to her pretty, delicate bones. “You really gonna make me wait for you all night?”

“You showed up early all on your own,” Beth points out. She fingers the rosary beads peeking out from his collar, the dim overhead light catching on her ring out of the corner of his eye. “I told you, you don’t gotta hang around all night. It’s gotta be boring.”

“Not what I meant.” Christ, he’s got half a mind to undo the snap of her jeans right here and now. He settles for toying with the button instead, and that’s quite enough to get Beth squirming and slapping his hand away. He grins. “I’ll stick around all night, darling, you’ve just got to indulge me a little.”

“What, suddenly my bra strap’s not good enough for you?”

“Alright, so you’ve got to indulge me a lot, then.”

Beth huffs, slaps at his hands again when they go for her arse. “You’re gettin’ a little too handsy. Am I gonna have to start ignoring you when you come in on my shifts?”

“Wouldn’t speak much to your customer service,” Murphy points out, appealing to her sense of sweet southern hospitality even though he knows that doesn’t apply to him when he’s pissing her off on purpose. “Might have to lodge a complaint with the owner, get your arse fired,” he continues, grinning as he nudges his mouth against her ear and whispers into it, “and then what else are you gonna do with it but keep it in my bed where it belongs?”

“Oh, I bet you think that’s clever, Mr. MacManus,” she drawls. Or you could call it that, only she shivers and sighs when he skates the blunt edges of his thumbnails down her arms.

He nips at her earlobe. “Best fucking idea I’ve ever had, yeah.”

When he leans back to look at her, Beth rolls her eyes but, would you look at that, she’s smiling. “You got problems.”

“Yeah, with your impenetrable work ethic.”

“I’m not doin’ so good tonight, y’know,” she says, with a pointed look at his mouth while her fingers trace his collarbones.

Murphy shrugs off her comment, because truth is she’s doing just fine. Nobody’s short of chips and beer, are they, what the fuck else is she expected to do?

“Sure you are. Besides, if Doc’s got a problem, he’ll kick my arse, not yours,” he reassures her, and that’s the truth, too. “Not hard to tell I’m the one trying to get you sacked.”

Her smile breaks apart into a laugh. God help him, but he loves that sound. “That’s real romantic, Murphy, you know that?”

He grins some more, and sneaks a quick kiss off her lips. “Well, anything for you, love.”

“I gotta get back to work,” she says, and slips out of his grasp before he can begin to protest. He does whine, though, which only makes her roll her eyes again before she heads off. “Say a few Our Father’s or somethin’, pass the time.”

“Cheek.”

“You’re one to talk,” she tosses over her shoulder, and then she’s back to work and he’s left pining like a miserable son of a bitch. Left checking out her arse as she goes, too, which softens the blow a bit. Connor would have an absolute field day with this shit if he were here to see it, but he’s no better with Amy so he can go fuck himself, far as Murphy’s concerned.

But Connor’s not here now, so he hasn’t got to worry about it, and so he pulls out his phone to shoot another text to Beth.

 **MURPHY** : hate to see you leave but love to watch you walk away

It takes a bit for her to respond to that one; she is working, after all, and Murphy can be patient when it suits him. He’s got nothing but time to kill at the moment, besides.

 **BETH** : This ain’t what I meant when I told you to behave.  
This is like… the opposite of that.

 **MURPHY** : what can i say? i’m a bad, bad man

 **BETH** : You keep this up, I’m not gonna be good for you, either.

 **MURPHY** : don’t think i want you good tonight

 **BETH** : That right?

 **MURPHY** : not like you’re doing what i tell you anyway. might as well embrace it, shouldn't i?

 **BETH** : You’re so annoyin.

 **MURPHY** : besotted, i think you meant to say

 **BETH** : Sweet talker.

 **MURPHY** : oh there’s more where that came from xx

 **MURPHY** : now why don’t you go take those panties off and meet me in the bathroom?

 **BETH** : You’re real greedy today.

 **MURPHY** : yep

 **BETH** : Alright, well, don’t get too excited. This is just like you said, honesty’s important, and even though you’re buggin the crap outta me at least you’re not makin up excuses, so I guess it won’t hurt to reward you **a little bit** —

 **BETH** : [ATTACHMENT: 1 IMAGE]

Murphy really does drop his phone this time, but at least it clatters on the counter and not the floor. Between the crackle of the jukebox and the steadily rising hum of patrons, no one turns their head at the noise, but if they did Murphy wouldn’t likely notice, anyway.

Upends the ashtray, too, while he’s at it, but he leaves the mess where it is because he hardly registers that, either, despite the cigarette butts that have fallen into his lap. He’s got enough problems in that general vicinity as it is, and when his cock twitches up against his zipper in response to the photo Beth’s just sent him, well, he couldn’t give a fuck about the ashtray if he tried.

She did go to the loo, after all, but she’s kept her knickers on. Loosened her jeans so he can see them, a pretty peaches-and-cream color that’s nearly indecipherable from her complexion, decorated with white polka dots and a wrinkled bow at the top. She likes things like that, Murphy’s noticed. All of her underwear’s cotton, but it’s usually pretty, too — patterned and colorful, and she looks just as good in them as she does stark naked underneath of him.

He thinks these in particular, though, would look good slung around her knees while he fucks her up against the bathroom sink.

And, you know what? Fuck it. He already knew he couldn’t wait ‘til the end of her shift, so what’s the point in keeping up the pretense?

He doesn’t text her back, just heads to the bathroom. His phone chirps with another message from her — _You okay? Did I break you this time? :)_ — cheeky little brat, he’ll show her. Only thing that’s getting _broken_ is gonna be the sink, or maybe one of the door hinges if he fucks her hard enough. She’s sure acting the hell up tonight, playing annoyed only to turn around and tease him like this, the way she does when she wants it rough, and far the fuck be it from Murphy not to give it to her.

Much as he’d like to just go barging in, to push her up against the wall and get his hand shoved into those panties she’d flashed him, he doesn’t try the doorknob. She’s sure to have it locked but that might make her nervous, anyway, if he goes rattling the handle.

So he merely taps on the door, calls through it, “Don’t bother doing up your pants, love, it’s only me.”

If he’s not mistaken, and he’s sure he isn’t, Beth huffs out another irritated breath. “Lord, Murphy, that text was _not_ an invitation, I swear —”

“Agree to disagree.” He does try the handle now. No luck. “Open up, go on, then, let Daddy have a look at you.”

She laughs. “I hate you,” she says, but the lock’s clicked open and Murphy’s shouldering his way inside, so he reckons she’s probably full of it.

He doesn’t give her the chance to scold him, just fuses his mouth to hers straight off the bat. Kicks the door shut and flicks the lock back into place, buries his free hand between her legs to squeeze her cunt, sucks the moan right out of her mouth and swallows it down same as he wants to swallow her come.

Beth doesn’t seem much in the mood to scold him, anyway. Nah, she goes up on her toes to get closer to him, curls her hands into his shirtfront so tight he can feel the pinch of her nails through the thin material, can feel them dig into his chest harsh enough to leave little half-moon scars behind. He’s got a few war wounds as it is; wouldn’t mind it if Beth left her mark on him, too.

There’s still a layer of worn denim and pretty cotton in the way, but that doesn’t stop Murphy from palming her cunt, doesn’t stop Beth from riding his hand same as she does his jaw and his dick — enthusiastic, restless, like she’ll take all he’s got and she’ll make him give her a little more, too. Always a little more, _every time_ , ‘til he works her up to a fucking crescendo that makes her gasp his name, high and sharp like she’s got glass in her throat and the only way to make the pain stop is if he makes her come. And he always does, because he wants it, wants _her_ , because what the fuck else has he got to do but get her off every which way she wants it?

His other hand cups her jaw, thumb poised in the dip of her chin to coax her mouth open wider, so the whimpers and sighs spilling out of it aren’t muffled so much, so he can slick his tongue inside and taste the Coke she’s been sipping on all night.

“You gonna let me fuck you, then?” he mutters into the kiss, grinning because he damn well already knows the answer. Pushes the heel of his hand against her clit to make her moan for him.

 _“Yeah,”_ Beth says, dragging him along with her when he backs her up against the sink. “Yeah, but you got about ten minutes and I don’t wanna hear you complain the rest of the night.”

 _Ten minutes._ Fuck that, Murphy thinks, and he tells her as much when he yanks down her jeans. “I’ll take as long with you as I fucking want. Now get these fucking things off and spread your legs for me.”

She kicks them the rest of the way off, and Murphy bends down to scoop them up and chucks them onto the toilet's tank. It’s a toss-up over which surface in the bathroom’s the cleanest, but the floor sure enough isn’t the best bet.

Beth doesn’t give him time to debate it, because she’s curled her hand into his collar like it belongs there, fingers tangled with his rosary beads — the ring he gave her clinks against them, surely nicking the metal — and she’s hauled him back in for another kiss, just as feverish as the last one. She’s all worked up, he can tell, and it shoots a thrill straight to his hard, pulsing dick that’s just this side of painful, so he’s quick to undo his zipper for some relief. Quick to thrust between her legs, spread like he told her to, and exchange groans with her between their harried kisses.

“Were you a good girl for me, huh?” he wants to know, fingers seeking her pussy lips over her underwear to find out for himself. “You get wet thinking about me, did you?”

“Uh-huh.” She nods, nose bumping his. Her hips jerk when he slips his hand past her waistband, when he gathers that wetness on his fingers before pushing two of them inside. “ _Ooh, God,_ jus’ thinkin’ about you, Murphy, c’mon —”

 _“Mmph.”_ He groans, deep and guttural into her ear when he sucks the lobe between his teeth. He loves doing that shit, loves the way it makes her breath hitch and come faster, hot and ragged against his neck. Loves the way her chest spasms, the way her cunt clenches around the thrust of his fingers. “You want Daddy to take care of you? Ready for my cock, or d’you want my mouth first?”

She whines, kinda the way he did earlier but not nearly, because it’s just as hot and desperate as her pussy. “We don’t got _time_ —”

“We’ll fucking _make_ time.” He releases her ear, and growls against her throat even as he sucks a mark there. Picks up the pace of his fingers, he wants her fucking _drenched_. “Wanna get my tongue up your cunt, and you’re gonna fucking take it.”

Her whole body spasms this time, the stuttered breath out of her mouth down to the curl of her toes in her boots. He _knows_ they curl, because she’s up on the tips of them again, urging his fingers deeper and faster while she licks up the tattoo on his neck. Good fuckin’ _Christ_ , that drives him fucking mad.

Gotta keep his head on straight, though, if he wants to do as he said, and he bloody well _does_ , so he removes his hand from between her thighs and laps her come from his fingers like a hungry mutt. Fuck, but she always tastes so good — sweet and musky and like he doesn’t need to live off anything else, so who could really blame him for skipping out on communion wine whenever he’s got Beth laid up in bed with him?

And if anybody says he needs to go to confession for that, well, he’ll raise them _several_ Song of Songs verses and tell them to fuck off. If he wants to worship between Beth’s thighs every Sunday, that’s what he’ll do — and he’s gonna do it right the fuck now, too.

So he licks his fingers clean, but doesn’t give her a chance to protest their absence, either, because he’s already getting on his knees, rucking up her shirt so he can kiss down her body without anything in the way. Her skin is soft and flushed warm beneath the press of his open mouth, and he wants to feel every inch of it heat up more under his tongue.

When he gets to her underwear, he catches the band between his teeth and slicks his tongue along the tan line there. Makes him think of Beth in a two-piece on some Georgia beach, makes him think about slathering her in sunscreen ‘til she’s glistening, ‘til she tastes like coconut oil for days afterwards, and he moans right along with her. She’s got her hands in his hair now, not urging him any which way, just hanging on like he’s already made her knees weak and he’s hardly so much as breathed on her.

Fuck’s sake, but this girl’s really gonna kill him one of these days, and he won’t even be sorry for it. What a fucking way to go, eh?

He plants kisses along her waistband, licks at her cunt through the cotton and makes her whimper, makes her hands tighten in his hair with a sharp tug that gets his dick throbbing with the need to be inside of her. But that can wait, because he wants to eat the come out of her first.

“Being a good girl for me now, aren’t you, love?” he teases, glancing up the lean length of her body to grin at her pink face, bright eyes. He skims his hands up the backs of her thighs. “This all it takes to get you to behave, is it? You just wanna see Daddy on his knees for you, d’you, and then you’ll let me do what I want?”

“Oh my _God_ , Murphy,” she groans. He’d wager she’s torn between annoyed and turned on, and that’s just the way he likes her. “Ten minutes, I _mean it_.”

“Fuck no,” he argues, and parts his lips over hers, panting hot against her cunt and making damp cotton go even wetter. Smacks her arse, sharp as she’d pulled his hair. “Already told you, didn’t I? I’ll take as much time as I fucking want, and you’re gonna fucking like it.”

“Well I don’t doubt _that_ ,” Beth says, the words riding on a giggle that shatters around another sigh when he licks up the seam of her panties. “Jesus, Murphy, _please_ —”

“Keep it up,” he warns, “and you won’t be going back to work tonight at all.”

“Yes, sir,” she snarks back, but he’ll give her that one. He rather _likes_ that one. Her boots scuff the floor on either side of his bent knees; she’s getting antsy for him.

He knows the feeling, so he doesn’t waste any more time. Hooks his fingers into her waistband and starts tugging. He wants to tear them off, rip them clean in half, but Beth’ll be pissed if he ruins her knickers and she has to work the rest of her shift commando. Another time, he thinks, and drags them carefully — _mostly_ , if a tad roughly — down her legs instead. He thinks about keeping them around her knees like he’d imagined on his way to the bathroom, but it’s a better visual than it is actually _practical_ , so he stuffs them in his pocket instead. She’ll get them back so long as she’s good for him, and at the end of the day she always is.

“Christ,” he mutters, licks his lips as he runs his hands back up her legs, nudging them further apart so he can get a better look at her. Crosses himself while he’s at it. “You’re a fucking sight for sore eyes, aren’t you? Fucking soaked for me.”

He swipes his fingers through the wetness there, sucks it off his skin while her thighs tremble. He smacks her arse again, making her jolt forward, and his grip bites behind her knees so he can hold her still. “Fucking love it when you let me eat your pussy, you know that?”

Murphy doesn’t wait for an answer, because he doesn’t _need_ an answer. He knows she knows, and it’s about time he gets to it. Fuck her ten minutes, he’ll take his sweet fucking time, just as he said, but he’s not keen on wasting any of it.

So he buries his face in her cunt, same as he’d done his fingers, only this time he can taste the way her body shudders when he touches her.

She does that a lot, skin quivering with fresh waves of goosebumps when be gets his hands on her, like her nerve endings are tuned into every move he makes, and it drives him up the fucking wall to think it, that he’s got this visceral sort of _claim_ on her. Fuck every Brett who comes into the pub, every one of her stupid cocky classmates who might try out a line on her, anyone who’s got even a passing thought about taking her away from him, because Murphy’s got his head between her legs and his tongue up her pussy and he’d take a fucking bullet to the brain before he ever even _thought_ about giving her up.

He wants to feel that tremble again, so he tightens his hands around her thighs and groans into her cunt, pushing at her clit with the flat of his tongue before he flicks the tip rapidly over that bundle of nerves and then back inside her pussy, lapping into that hot, tight funnel his cock’s absolutely fucking aching for. But his throat’s aching, too, dry and begging to swallow down her come like water at the height of a humid, congested summer.

The air’s sure thick enough in the bathroom, almost uncomfortably warm in this confined space, and it’s getting hotter the longer Murphy’s nose and mouth are plugged up with that heady, sweet musk between Beth’s thighs. Like hell is he about to surface for fresh air, though. Sweat’s trickling down his temples and all he does is suck her off harder, tonguing her clit like he’s licking the last drops of beer from the lip of a glass bottle.

“You close there, love?” he wants to know, though he already does. He can feel it in the tightening of her muscles, the clench of her pussy, the scratch of her fingernails across his scalp. But he wants to hear her say it, too, so he laps at her vigorously, harsh sweeps of his tongue all over her cunt, hungry, sloppy, so that there’s no difference between his spit and her arousal.

“C’mon, Beth. Can fucking taste it, I want it so _fucking_ bad —” he rears up on his smarting knees, palms her arse, squeezes and yanks her closer, just about suffocating himself in her pussy but, fuck it, if this is how he goes, then this is how he goes “— aren’t I doing it good enough for you, sweetheart? C’mon, love, give it to me.” He licks up her slit to her clit, slurps at it, pulls back a bit to slick his tongue up and down the vee of her thighs before diving back in. “Daddy wants your come.”

He gives her clit another hard, insistent _suck_ , and plunges his tongue up her cunt just in time to catch her orgasm. She soaks his stubble, yanks at his hair, moans his name all high and pretty like she’s singing a hymn. The sound echoes off the dingy bathroom walls and in his ears, and he draws it out longer and higher as he keeps his mouth on her, while he licks her through that wave, swallows it down and fills her back up with his own hot, ragged breaths.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as she comes down, as he laps the remains of her release from her thighs. Smooths his hands up and down her legs, following the tremors he left behind. “Such a good girl for me, Beth. What else d’you want? Huh?” He pinches her arse when she doesn’t answer right away, holds her still when she flinches. “Go on and tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“ _Murphy_ , Jesus.” She scrubs her fingers through his hair, makes his eyelids flutter just like her breath does. She’s still shy, sometimes, when they’re alone together, but he’s having a rather grand fucking time easing her into it so it’s no skin off his teeth, really, so long as she says it and she always, _always_ winds up saying it. “C’mon, you _know_ , please.”

“I don’t think so, darling.” He sucks kisses up her inner thigh, harsh and reprimanding but it feels good, too, he knows it does because her knees wobble and she’s sighing again, scratching his scalp and trying to pull him up her body. He stays put, though, because he wants to hear — “You’ve got to tell me.” He pulls off her thigh with a pop, just to roll his tongue over the bruise he left behind. “Wanna hear you say it.”

“Jesus.” Beth tugs at his hair again, hard enough to make him growl and slap her arse. “C’mon, Murphy, I want your cock. Want you to fuck me, _c’mon_.”

Lord’s fucking name. If she’s gonna go off like that, _well_ …

Murphy’s on his feet before she can rip the hair right from his scalp, seals his mouth over hers and pushes his tongue past her parted lips so she can taste her own come, so she can taste what he’s done to her, so she fucking knows that was for him just as much as it was for her.

Beth’s hands shove and scramble between them — his button and zip were already open, but she undoes his belt, too, and palms his hard cock over his pants before dipping inside, before she wraps her warm, just slightly work-worn hand around his dick and jerks him so fucking good that he’s got half a mind to let her finish him off just like this. But he’s not a complete fucking idiot, and he’s not getting off anywhere besides her hot, wet pussy. Except —

“Don’t have a condom,” Murphy mutters into her mouth. Because, fuck, he didn’t _actually think_ he’d wind up fucking her before he got her back home tonight. Beth’s on the pill, at least, but all the same he’s got to _ask_ first. “Can I still fuck you, huh? Want me to give it to you raw?”

She whines, kisses him harder, just this side of frantic as her hips tilt up, so that his dick settles at the cleft of her pussy and gives her clit another kick of friction. “ _Yeah_ , yeah, it’s alright, Murphy, c’mon —”

Christ help him, he _cannot_ tell her no when she’s begging him like that. Can’t tell her no for anything, come to think of it, but especially not when she’s got her hands in his hair, mouth on his neck, when she’s near-on riding his dick. “You can say no, love —”

“Oh my _God_ , Murphy,” Beth groans and, again, he’d bet she’s toeing that line between absolutely annoyed and one hundred percent completely randy, “I said I want it, now _give it to me_ before I lose my damn mind.”

One hundred percent completely randy it is, then. And if that’s how she wants it, well, Murphy can work with that.

So _work with it_ he fucking does, and thrusts his bare cock up her cunt just as he’d done his tongue, and as always he can’t decide which way he likes her best. So long as he gets to have her, though, that’s _best_ enough for him.

She’s still wet from him, tight and hot and — fuck, she feels good. It’s a wonder he didn’t come in his pants while he was eating her out, and more of a wonder still that he manages to keep it together even as her pussy sucks him in deep, drools all over his dick like his mouth had all over her scant minutes ago.

He fastens his lips to Beth’s just in time to taste her moan, and so she can have his in return. Much as he likes to make her scream for him, he knows she’ll be embarrassed if anyone hears them when she’s going to have to go back and fetch them more goddamn chips eventually. _He_ couldn’t give less of a shit, honestly, but if she cares about it, well, it’s not like he’s going to pitch a fit over having to kiss her.

His hands hitch around her hips, guide her along to the immediately hurried pace he’s set. He wants her to come again, at least once more before he does, but her bones are jelly from their first go and he’s all too happy to take charge here.

It’s like he said — he wants to take care of her.

“There you are, love.” He hisses between his teeth when he hits her deep, when her cunt grips him tight and she gasps sharp against his cheek, tongue rasping over the scruff he leaves be because Beth likes the way it scratches between her thighs. “That’s a good girl, Beth, taking it so well for me. Such a good fuckin’ girl for Daddy, aren’t you?”

“ _Mmm_ -huh.” She’s panting — God, but does he love it when he gets her going all breathless like that — but she smiles around it. Between that ray of fucking sunshine that splits her face in two, that post-orgasmic glow and that crackle around the edges that means she’s edging towards another one, _Christ_ , she’s radiant, isn’t she?

“Always gonna be a good girl for you, Daddy — _oh_ —” Her head tilts back and Murphy tilts forward to latch his mouth onto her neck. He wraps a hand into her ponytail, gets it all twisted around his fingers just so he can pull it. “ _Oh, God_ , yeah, gonna be so good for you.”

“Yeah, you are.” He smacks her arse again, hoists her up a little higher so he can drive deeper, faster into her. Gets a hold around the back of her knee and hooks her leg over his hip, so the heel of her boot digs into the back of his thigh. “C’mon, wanna make you come again. You gonna give it to me, Beth? Come the fuck on, _fuck_ ” — he nearly bites his tongue in half when she laps hers all sloppy up his jaw, breath as hot on his skin as her pussy is around his dick — “let me fuckin’ have it, sweetheart, huh?

“Gonna let me come in you?” he continues, losing his head a bit but, fuck it, he wants it. And if she wants it, too, then he’s goddamn ready to give it to her. “Wanna stuff this pussy up with my come so you fucking _remember_ who you belong to, yeah?”

He shoves a hand between their thrusting hips, gets his thumb on her clit and goes at it as mercilessly as his cock inside of her. His other hand covers her mouth — she’s getting too loud and it’s tipping him towards his peak — and he pants against her cheek as he tells her again, “Come for me, love, _c’mon_ , so I can give you mine. You want it, don’t you? Tell me right the _fuck_ now.”

To her credit, Beth doesn’t make him wait so much as a second. Doesn’t tease him anymore; she never does, not when he’s got her hot like this. The words are muffled against his palm but he can hear her loud and clear like she’s shouting it, like it’s bouncing off these grimey bathroom walls, and sure enough it’s gonna be bouncing around his head the rest of the night, while he waits for her to finish up work so he can take her home and they can do this all over again.

“I want it, Murphy, God, _Jesus_ , I want it so bad, c’mon.” Her hips move erratically under the insistent push-and-pull of his, clit pulsing beneath his thumb. “Come in me, c’mon, I swear to _God_ , I want you to, whatever you want.”

Truth is, the only thing he ever really wants is her. Just Beth. And once he had her the first time, things have tended to shake out pretty well from there.

Right now’s a good example as any. He’s gotten to fuck her in the middle of her shift, gotten to put his hands all over her in relative privacy, no one’s come knocking on the bathroom door — or, if they had, they’d gotten the picture pretty quick and fucked off — and now Beth’s coming apart up against the sink, which means Murphy can come, too, and he hasn’t even got to leave the hot, spasming confines of her pussy to do it.

 _“Beth, fuck —”_ He curses into her neck, the hand that was on her mouth falling away so he can grip the sink behind her for purchase. She groans right into his ear, breath all warm and damp and so fucking _loud_ as she says his name, over and over again — _Murphy, Jesus, Murphy Murphy Murphy, God_ — _fuck_ , but has he ever come this hard in his whole sorry fucking _life_?

 _Jesus_ , but he really, sincerely doubts it.

He holds her while they come down, rubs her back to soothe it out of her. In turn she cards her hands through his hair, murmuring things he can’t quite catch while she pecks kisses wherever she can reach. Doesn’t matter; he doesn’t need to hear exactly what she’s saying to know that he loves every last fucking word of it, just as he loves every last bit of _her_.

Once the tremors have subsided and their mingled sweat is cooling on their skin, Murphy cleans himself up, does up his jeans and belt in a couple seconds flat so he can spend more time helping Beth. She’s still carding her fingers through his hair when he wets a paper towel and washes up best he can between her legs. He’ll get her in the shower when they’re back at hers later, wash her hair and soap up her sore muscles with all that sweet-smelling stuff she likes so much, but for now this’ll have to do.

Seems alright by her, because she hums contentedly when he kisses her ear and asks if she’s alright.

“ _Oh_ , ‘m good.” She smiles, all dreamy-like. Punches him straight in the heart when she looks at him like that. “And you don’t gotta do that, y’know,” she goes on, when Murphy pulls her underwear from his pocket and helps her step into them. Then her shorts, too, slings them up and rubs her hips.

“Nah.” He grins as he clips the snap, then palms her now-clothed cunt and squeezes. He’s _in her_ and maybe it was impulsive but, damn him to hell, but he fucking loves that thought. “Think I do.”

She squirms and bats his hand away, giggles even as she tells him off. “Knock it off, I ain’t gonna be able to walk straight the rest of the night as it is.”

“That so?” Murphy’s grin widens. “Think I like the sound of that.”

“Oh, you _would_.” Beth snorts, but returns his smile before she turns around to face the sink, twists the tap on so she can splash cold water on her face. Has to bend a bit to do it, which brings her bum flush against his cock and he _just_ came but, fuck him, that feels good enough he could be ready to go for her all over again in maybe two minutes, tops.

They haven’t got time for it, so he’ll have to settle for copping another feel. Not a bad compromise, he thinks as he runs his hands over her, down her spine to the curve of her arse, with his own content, appreciative hum. Gets her laughing again as he feels her up, then loops his arms around her middle to splash water on his hands.

“C’mere,” he says, urging her to stand straight, then disentangles the elastic band from her wrecked hair, works out the snarls with his wet fingers and scrapes her hair back into a fresh ponytail. “We’ll pop by the store on the way to yours, pick up one of those Plan B, yeah? I’ll knock you up eventually if you want, but I reckon you’d better finish school first.”

“Real pragmatic of you, Mr. MacManus,” she drawls. She’s still grinning when she turns back around, ponytail swinging over her shoulder, and pecks him on the lips. “Thank you. Buy me a bag of Jolly Ranchers too and I’ll forgive you for takin’ way more than ten minutes.”

Murphy snorts out a laugh. “Christ, you’re easily bought, aren’t you?”

“What can I say, you’re irresistible,” she deadpans, and squeezes his hips when he pinches her bum for that one.

She gets softer then, though, not teasing so much now — the way she looks at him, her smile, her voice, like sunshine peeking out from behind the clouds after a storm. Like he’s gone and got her melting just because he’s got his arms around her.

Her hand settles over his heartbeat, the rose gold of her ring standing out stark against his black shirt. “You’re real good to me, y’know that?”

Lord help him. Murphy smiles, because now she’s got him melting, too.

“Well, you don’t make it all that difficult,” he tells her, “even when you’re running that smartarse mouth of yours.”

“Guess I must be pretty irresistible too, then, huh?”

Oh, if she only bloody _knew_.

Murphy knows he’s really run out the clock here — Doc’s sure to give him hell for stealing away one of his waitresses for, yeah, quite a bit more than ten minutes — but he can’t bring himself to care much. Can’t bring himself to do anything but lean in to pluck another kiss like flowers off Beth’s lips, and his mouth twitches up at the corners when he feels hers slant up that way, too.

“Yeah,” he whispers into it, answering her question. His hand finds hers, tangling their fingers together, claddagh rings gently bumping. “Yeah, love, you certainly are.”


End file.
